Chase grinned. “You couldn’t afford us.”
“Give him a price,” the other man said, turning off the flashlight and eyeing Cami. “How much is the woman worth?”
“Christ, Zack, we’re not prepared to take her with us. Besides, she’s old.”
“Not that old. Del Rio might be a racist, but he’d take a white woman and give her to one of his connections. She could be a little peace offering.”
Tasting a new kind of fear, Ian pulled Cami closer. Damn it. They’d taken a calculated risk, had chosen the trailer over spending the night exposed to the elements of the Everglades—and had lost.
“Screw Del Rio,” Chase said, picking up the two weapons from the floor. “There’s no way of making peace with him. Not after what you did to Sanchez.”
Zack smiled. “True,” he said, then glanced to Cami. “Still, the woman could be worth something.”
Cami’s tears bathed his shoulder. He hugged her tight, but wished he was in a position that would give him better access to the pistol he’d hidden in the waistband of his jeans.
“I told you to name your price,” Ian said. “I can wire the money into an account and—”
With a chuckle, Zack shook his head. “Then we’d definitely have to take the woman. How else could we be sure you’d pay us?”
“Sounds like a pain in the ass.” Chase took a few backward steps toward the short corridor leading to the bedroom. “And we’re already behind schedule. It’s bad enough we fucked up and Del Rio wants us dead, but we don’t need Smitty coming after us, too.”
Zack moved toward Cami, then ripped her from Ian’s arms. The blanket pooled around his waist as he reached for her. She let out a scream, then quickly snapped her mouth shut when Zack ran the barrel of his gun along her throat, down between her breasts. “We’re not that behind schedule,” he said, redirecting the gun to Ian. “I suggest you stay down, old man.”
Keeping the blanket around his waist, Ian scooted back, then leaned against the trailer wall.
“Smitty loves whores,” Zack continued. “Clean this one up and I can see him getting a good price for—”
“Dude, apparently you can’t see shit. Look at her. She’s got blood all over her clothes. It doesn’t look like she’s showered in days. The old guy isn’t any better. They’re probably a couple of drunks or junkies and have been having a good time with our stash. Kill them. We’ll throw them behind the trailer with Sanchez’s body.”
“You can do the killing this time.”
“Don’t be a pussy about it.”
“Pussy? All you did was cut off his fingers. I’m the one who had to cut his throat.”
“Wasn’t my call. Take it up with Smitty if you want. He’s the one who wanted it done that way.” He let out a hard sigh. “Just take care of them while I move the boxes.”
“I’ll make you a deal, bro. You kill the old dude, and I’ll take care of the cougar, after I get a piece of ass,” he finished, and groped Cami’s breast.
Hatred and rage settled deep in Ian’s chest. Steven had tortured Cami out of revenge. This man was, simply put, a depraved piece of shit. Whatever these two boys had involved themselves in would bite them on the ass. He’d make sure of it.
Once he had Cami safe, he’d shoot them, but let them live only so they could spend the rest of their days looking over their shoulder. Between his own dealings with the upper echelon of the drug world, and the amount of coke stored in the bedroom, Smitty didn’t sound like the type who would let one of his minions cost him money or risk his reputation without consequence. Another calculated risk, but at this point he was beyond caring. He’d make it so these two didn’t produce their shipment, and let street justice take care of the rest.
“Deal.” Chase raised his weapon, then aimed it at Ian. “You want me to kill the old man? Not a problem.”
Cami let out a piercing scream. Chase flinched. Ian shifted his gaze from the barrel of Chase’s gun to his fiancée, just as she slipped the filet knife from the pocket of her robe and stabbed it into Zack’s thigh.
Zack shoved her against the wall and stared at the knife protruding from his leg. Taking advantage, Ian reached around, grabbed the pistol from behind his back, then shot Chase in the right shoulder and hand. When Chase’s gun fell to the floor, Ian redirected the pistol onto Zack and fired, hitting the man in his opposite thigh.
Zack’s legs crumpled beneath him. Cami shoved off the wall, picked up the tackle box, then, using both hands and letting out a triumphant yell, whacked it against Zack’s head.
Ian stood, kicked Chase’s gun out of reach, flipped the pistol in his hand, then smashed the butt along the man’s head.
Breathing hard, adrenaline rushing through his veins, he rushed to Cami and held her. “Are you okay?” he asked, then kissed her forehead, cheek and lips.
She gave him a kiss, then pulled back. Her eyes were wild with fear as she stared at the two men on the floor. “Should we…kill them?”
Hell, no. He retrieved fishing line from the rods against the wall. “Leave them,” he said, wrapping the line around Chase’s wrist. “They had to come here by boat. Let’s tie them up and get the hell out of here.”
“What about all of their cocaine?” she asked, pulling the knife from Zack’s thigh.
“What about it?”
“That can’t make it to this Smitty guy. We can’t let him put more drugs on the streets.”
“It’ll get there anyway,” he said, and finished binding Chase.
“You’re such a damned cynic. I know that, but we can stop this shipment. Do you have any idea how many people I know who’ve ruined their careers because of coke?”
“Damn it, Cami. This isn’t an after-school special. Steven could’ve heard the shots. We need to get out of here and onto their boat.”
She crossed her arms and hiked an eyebrow. Shit. He knew what that brow meant and had seen it multiple times on her daughter. “Fine. Do something with the drugs. I’ll finish tying up Zack.”
Carrying a flashlight, she rushed from the room. Blood poured from Zack’s leg wounds, but the man would unfortunately live only to face Smitty. Ian bound Zack’s wrists and feet together, gathered their weapons, along with the ones he’d discovered earlier, then set them near the door.
“How are you coming along?” he called, and checked Chase’s pockets, looking for the keys to the boat they must have used to make their way here.
“Almost done,” she said, rushing down the hall. She picked up several water jugs, then ran back to the bedrooms.
While Cami did what she’d needed to do, he went through Zack’s pockets. When he found a set of keys in the leg of the man’s pants, excitement and hope rushed through him. Along with fear. They could escape Steven, but he knew the bastard wouldn’t stop. He’d come for them. Based on what Cami had told him, on what Steven had done to his ex and her fiancé, the man had nothing to lose. Steven had also called CORE out, threatened his agents and had made it clear he would do everything in his power to seek retribution.
The keys bit into his palm as he curled his hand into a fist. Steven would not win this. His hunt was over.
“Cami,” he shouted, and, picking up the lantern, rushed to the bedroom.
“Just about done,” she said, then poured the last of the water jug onto the cocaine.
With pride, he eyed what she’d done. At this point, if it were possible, the only thing the coke would be good for was papier-mâché. She’d sliced the black garbage bags and had dumped water on them.
Tossing the empty jug to the mattress, she glanced to the boxes of pink flamingos, which she’d spill onto the floor. “I can’t do much with these, but I’m hoping the water I dumped on them will make the coke useless.”
He reached for her hand. “You did good,” he said, then held up the keys. “Can we leave now?”
Her eyes widened a fraction before she grinned. “I might puke the whole way back to civilization, but it’ll be worth it.”
*
“Watch the light,” Ryan said, holding Lola’s hand and keeping the flashlight steady as they quickly finished navigating their way over the mangrove roots. “There’s a creek up ahead, then more woods. Almost there.”
Fear kept her feet moving. Those gunshots…
They splashed into the water, quickly sloshed through to the other side of the creek, then took off running. Ryan’s flashlight danced along dirt, ferns and trees.
“There’s the clearing,” he panted, killing the flashlight and plunging them into darkness. “Ready your gun and stay behind me.”
She quickly pulled the Glock Ian had given her from the holster, then held it with both hands. “We’re partners. I’ll stay by your side.”
He stopped, pulled her in for a kiss, then said, “A damn fine partner. But stay behind me, anyway. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Taking her hand, he wrapped it around the edge of his pack. “Once we’re out of the woods, the moon will give us a little light. Watch your step.”
They moved slowly. Ryan stumbled on roots or falling limbs—it was too hard to tell in the blackness suffocating her—and caught himself. After a few minutes, and just a few feet from the edge of the clearing, he stopped, then pulled her down. “To the left,” he whispered.
She looked, then gasped. “What is it?”
“Don’t know. Could be meth heads.”
“What?” she asked, her racing heart picking up even more speed.
“The Glades are a great place to hide. Waterways give easy access to haul drugs in and out, then along the coast. Hopefully we’re dealing with a couple of stoned druggies who decided to shoot each other.”
Not her mom and Ian. He hadn’t said as much, but he’d implied the possibility.
She wished there had been time to follow their tracks. Then they would know for sure if her mom and Ian had stumbled upon this old house. But the moment they’d heard the first gunshot, they’d pulled on their boots and shoulder holsters, grabbed their packs and ran, leaving the tent behind.
“Come on,” he said, tugging her hand. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, should we stick to the tree line?”
“It’s too dark for anyone to see us.” He looked to the moon, which was nothing but a sliver. “But stay low, just in case.”
Moving in a diagonal pattern, they dashed across the clearing. When the light from the house was extinguished, her heart sank and her stomach filled with dread. Without that light, they no longer had a beacon, but they did still have the element of surprise. Only she couldn’t see a damned thing. She couldn’t make out a—
A beam of light bounced off trees near the direction of the house, then moved.
Ryan wrapped his hand around hers. “Go.”
Staying low, they rushed toward what she assumed was someone holding a flashlight.
“Hang onto my pack,” Ryan said, his quiet tone urgent. “They’re moving toward the water.”
What if they weren’t dealing with meth heads? What if Steven had tricked them and had been lying in wait this whole time? Whoever held that light also held answers. She wanted them. God, she wanted to see her mom. Alive.
When they reached the edge of the clearing, she glanced to the left. The moon’s light reflected off of something. A window? She tightened her grip on Ryan’s pack and followed him. Cringed when a branch snapped beneath her boot, and sucked in a breath.
He stopped. Gripped her head, then pressed his mouth against her ear. “They’re by the water. Stay here.”
She pulled on his pack. “No,” she whispered. “If you need back up, I—”
He pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Back at you.”
“Fine. Whaddya say? Rush ’em?”
With confidence, she nodded. She could do this. She’d meant what she had said. They were partners and she didn’t want anything to happen to him. Whether Ian or any of her coworkers agreed, she was a CORE agent and had the skill set to handle this situation.
She nodded. “Let’s go for it.”
“Take the left, I’ll go right.”
Holding the Glock with both hands, she moved. In a matter of seconds, she lost Ryan in the dark, but refused to allow insecurity to creep inside and falter her steps. Her mom… She prayed to God the gunshots they’d heard hadn’t been meant for her mom or Ian. To be this close only to lose her now—she couldn’t think about that.
Focus, Lola. Focus.
The scent of saltwater filled her nostrils as she slipped behind a bush and neared the shore. The water lapped against…a boat? Anxiety and fear mixed with eager anticipation as she moved the bush’s flimsy branches aside.
She spotted the flashlight moving across the medium sized boat. Its beam touched on the cockpit widows. The person holding it stopped moving. She held her breath, looked to the right and saw Ryan’s shadowy figure emerge from the tall grasses near the shore.
The boat light suddenly lit up the night. The person in the cockpit, a shirtless man, raised a rifle toward Ryan, just as the boat’s engines revved.
Ian?
“Give me the gun,” a woman yelled. “I can’t drive this thing.”
Lola quickly looked to the cockpit. Mom. Although she couldn’t make out the seated figure, she’d know that voice anywhere.
Her limbs weakened with relief, but fear kept her standing. Ian knew nothing about Ryan, or that she’d come to the Everglades to rescue them. “Mom,” she shouted, scared Ian might fire at Ryan. “Ian, it’s Lola.”
The man kept the rifle aimed at Ryan. “Lola?” Ian called. “Who’s with you?”
She edged out of the bush and stepped in mud. “Dante sent him to help me.”
“There’s just the two of you?”
“Lola?” Her mom rushed from the cockpit toward Ian. “Where are you, baby?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.
“Get behind me,” Ian ordered.
Her mom grabbed the flashlight from Ian. “Put the gun down,” she said, then moved the beam along the shore. The light touched on Ryan, who had his gun pointed at Ian, then along the bushes until it smacked her in the face.
Lola winced when the light hit her eyes, then held up her Glock and waved.
“Lola,” her mom called again, then quickly moved to the farthest edge of the boat’s bow. Sobbing, she held out one hand, but kept the flashlight aimed at the water. “Hurry, honey. We have to go.”
She glanced to Ryan, who began running toward her. “Ian, put the rifle down. It’s just the two of us.”
“For now,” Ian yelled back, but he set the rifle down, then rushed to her mom. Within seconds, he dropped a ladder down the side of the boat. “Go, go, go!”
Not without her partner. She held out her hand for Ryan. When he ran to her side, he took her hand, then led her toward the boat’s ladder. Water immediately filled the inside of her boots and lapped at the top of her thighs. She slid the Glock into her holster, grabbed the ladder’s rungs, then climbed. When she reached the top, Ian pulled her onboard, then passed her to her mom, who quickly embraced her.
“Oh, honey,” Cami cried, and squeezed her tight. “My baby girl.” She smoothed her hand over her head, then down her shoulders. “Are you hurt? Are you okay? Why are you here? Damn it, you shouldn’t be in this place.”
Lola hung onto her mom and, although tears of relief and joy streamed down her face, she grinned. “I’m fine. You’re the one I’m worried about.” She hugged her tighter. “I was so scared.”
“Whose boat is this?” Ryan asked, moving past them and toward the cockpit.
She’d make time for a reunion later. Right now they needed to eat up the distance between them and Jackass.
Jackass.
They were supposed to detain him. At least in the Everglades they could have picked up his tracks. If they left now, they could lose him. And then what? Would he follow them back to Chicago and make good on his threats?
&
nbsp; “A couple of drug dealers,” Ian said, taking a seat next to Ryan. “They won’t be needing it tonight.”
Ryan glanced at him. “You can explain once we’re moving. Is the anchor up?”
Ian shook his head and started to rise.
“I have it.” Lola stepped away from her mom’s embrace, hurried to the stern, then hauled in the anchor. “Done,” she yelled over the motor.
The boat moved in reverse, then once it was clear from shore, Ryan sped them away and out into the open water.
“Mom, is there a cabin below?” she asked as she neared the cockpit.
She nodded and hung onto a cushioned seat. “Honey, I—”
“Later. Go down there. Let me talk to Ryan and Ian. I’ll come see you in a minute.”
Her mom’s eyes narrowed. “Who is this Ryan person? Have you been in this God-awful place with him all day? What do you know about him? Did you sleep—”
“Are you kidding me?” Her patience snapped, but guilt had her drawing in a deep breath and remembering that her mom had just been through hell. She took her mom’s hand, swaying as the boat picked up speed, and led her to Ryan and Ian. “Cami Carlyle, Ian Scott, this is Ryan Monahan. He’s a former SEAL Dante knows, and he works and lives in Everglade City.”
“Thank you for coming after us.” Ian shook Ryan’s hand. “I can drive a boat, but not in the dark. Do you know how to use the navigation system?”
“I can figure it out.” Ryan shrugged out of his pack, then pulled the GPS from its side pouch. “This’ll work just the same.” He looked to the device. “I’ll have us to my boat dock in about twenty-five minutes.”
“Twenty-five minutes,” her mom repeated, then laughed without humor. “After all of that walking and we’re only a twenty-five minute boat ride from civilization?”
Ian stood. The dim glow from the cockpit highlighted the exhaustion etched on his face, along with a cut across his forehead. “Lola, I can’t believe Dante sent you here. I never would have—” He sucked in a breath, then quickly pulled her in his arms. “You did good, kid. Your mom might give me hell for this later, but I don’t care I’m proud to have you as a member of my team.”
Ultimate Prey (Book 3 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) Page 29